Glauc. Begin, I beseech you. Give your attention, Abstemius.
Asot. My dear Glaucia, before everything, I am of opinion that there is no class of men which can be likened to festive and liberal hosts at banquets. Some show knowledge of all kinds of things, i.e., of mere trifles; others show with pride, experience, and wisdom gathered from practice. And what of this? There are people who indeed have wealth, but, wretched that they are, they don’t dare to spend it. What they have, they take pleasure in storing up. A kindly host is everywhere of use, everywhere is welcome. The very sight of him is sufficient to heal the sadness of the mind and scatter it; and if a man has any wretchedness, the memory of the feast takes it away. So, too, does the hope and expectation of a coming feast. All the other so-called mental blessings I don’t care to look on; they are, to me, slight and unfruitful.
Abstem. I ask you, Asotus, who is the author of such a fine sentiment?
Asot. I and all like me, i.e., a host of people from Belgic France, from the Seine to the Rhine. There are only a few poor and very sparing men who think differently, who envy Abstemius his name, and wish to be called frugal, or else certain distinguished people who are puffed up with a great opinion of their own wisdom, i.e., an empty word, whom we (i.e., the greatest and chief part of mankind) simply laugh at.
Abstem. What do I hear?
Digression
Glauc. He is quite right, though he is drunk. For nowhere has scholarship less estimation than in Belgium. A distinguished man in scholarship is not otherwise esteemed than one who is occupied in shoe-making or in weaving.
Abstem. And yet there are many students here who make not altogether unsatisfactory progress.